


A Dance With Nightmares

by ChipperSmol



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Claustrophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, and a very, anxieties and all the things hollow suffers from, this is a sort've recovery fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26847421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipperSmol/pseuds/ChipperSmol
Summary: Grimm, Troupe Master, King of Nightmares, Vessel of the Nightmare Heart, is an old higher being. He and his sister, the Radiance of Dreams, were once a part of one whole as an even older higher being. He had lived through eras of enlightenment that dispersed through the wind like unremarkable chaff. He had seen glorious kingdoms and dynasties rise from ashes and fall to ashes.Hollownest was no different to him.At first.
Relationships: Grimm/The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel
Comments: 11
Kudos: 200





	1. Hollownest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer!
> 
> I initially just draw stuff but then i get ideas in my brain that are too complicated to draw so I just turn to words so there's no guarantee I will be able to consistently update! There are pictures tho so hopefully that makes up for it.

Grimm, Troupe Master, King of Nightmares, Vessel of the Nightmare Heart, is an old higher being. He and his sister, the Radiance of Dreams, were once a part of one whole as an even older higher being. He had lived through eras of enlightenment that dispersed through the wind like unremarkable chaff. He had seen glorious kingdoms and dynasties rise from ashes and fall to ashes.

Hollownest was no different to him.

At first.

It was another Wyrm who made their claim to rule, which are getting quite scarce now aren’t they? They would create another age of invention and wonder, only for the rain to rust it to the ground and for it to become forgotten like the rest. Grimm would be there regardless at the end of it all to sweep up the the dying flames.

So when he heard wind that this particular Wyrm’s light had drawn away his sister’s moth worshipers and left her to waste away to nothing he was instantly infatuated with this little kingdom.

He and his sister rarely saw eye to eye and that was a partial reason for their split into two separate deities. He preferred to settle things with words, decorum and perhaps some showmanship if the situation allowed it. She settled her issues with brute force and manipulation. It was a bit ironic to Grimm, shouldn’t it be the other way around with nightmares and dreams?

She was prideful and boasted of her power. She would gloat of her abilities of light and dream making. She relentlessly patronized Grimm for choosing to keep himself obscure, feeding off of the dying breaths of kingdoms “like a lowly dermestid.”

So in a way, he was rooting for Hollownest and its Wyrm god.

He could see the Wyrm’s fears clearly through their- oh this one is a he- his nightmares. Wyrms consistently had worse nightmares than any other creature Grimm had encountered. He came to realize that it was thanks to their foresight that their uncertainties were magnified. One would think foresight would make the Wyrms untouchable, but Grimm was privy to the knowledge that foresight wasn’t simply the ability to see the future.

Foresight granted its users the ability to see _possibilities_ of the future, for the future is not a clear cut path. One small decision can change the life of thousands. Such as, an early death of an unremarkable bug would delay possibilities of new discoveries that would enrich the lives of many generations to come. Foresight was unreliable in Grimm’s opinion as the future was much more fickle than the Nightmare King. 

Grimm could see plainly that this Wyrm was grasping at straws through his nightmares as the Radiance swept through his kingdom with her infection. Grimm saw that the Wyrm’s foresight only gave him one certainty and it was the death of the kingdom he tirelessly raised from the rubble. It was evident that the Wyrm disapproved of that certain outcome. The Wyrm hid his desperation well from his followers, keeping their bad dreams at bay as he toiled fruitlessly to prevent the demise of his kingdom.

The Wyrm turned to the Void, one of the very few things Grimm had learned to respect out of fear. He had seen Void scattered throughout many kingdoms and he had seen its deadly properties. If weaponized correctly it could be used to wipe out thousands of lives in one day or snuff out even the light of a god, something that the Wyrm caught onto to very quickly.

So it was perhaps then, when the Wyrm was plagued with nightmares of culling his subjects with injections of void to combat The Radiance’s wrath, that he decided to intervene.

* * *

“Show yourself. I know you’re there,” the Wyrm’s regal voice cuts through the air like a needle the moment Grimm took a gentle step into the nightmare. The order catches him off guard as normally no one notices his entry until he announces himself.

Well then, time to make an introduction~

Crimson bleeds into the setting around the Wyrm like a ruthless stain. Elegant pale drapes shift to black satin curtains. Perfect tile floors morph into stitched fabric. The very air turns red as Grimm holds his natural aura back no longer.

_“I didn’t anticipate you to become lucid so quickly, dear Wyrm~”_ Grimm’s raspy voice permeates through the altered workshop that was the setting of this nightmare. In a flash, Grimm reveals himself in all his crimson glory with a blaze of scarlet fire.

The Wyrm immediately throws his hands out and Grimm can only blink in surprise as pale chains materialize out of the floor. He doesn’t even have time to react as they wrap around his body ruthlessly and pull him to the floor. The impact pushes the air out of him and Grimm grunts as he whacks his head into the ground. The pure light burns his through cloak wings and makes him wince. Even though the Wyrm was a younger god than him, age did not necessarily mean more power. With the way his influence on the nightmare recedes like a tide, but doesn’t disappear completely Grimm infers that they’re equally matched.

Perhaps he should have anticipated this reaction. His sister had been ruthlessly tearing through the Wyrm’s subjects like paper so of course he had a right to be paranoid.

But Grimm was still irked at his treatment. He didn’t get to bow.

The Wyrm approaches, wings extended to their fullest. He points a pale needle mere centimeters away from Grimm’s masked face. The tip shivers as the Wyrm’s hand refuses to still.

“Who are you?” He demands and Grimm grins. Ah, the pale god is scared. While Grimm did not intend to torment the already stressed Wyrm he still revels in his fear. 

“I am Grimm, The Nightmare King. I come offering insights on your war against my sister,” He says smoothly. The Wyrm’s eyes narrow before widening in understanding. The grip on the needle tightens.

“How can I believe what you say is true? You have the ability to invade the my mind like infection has with my subjects. How do I know this is not some trick to lower my guard?”

“Because she would much rather you watch your kingdom fall to nothing than cut your suffering short,” Grimm says, sitting up on his knees. The needle follows. The Wyrm wasn’t enthused with that answer as the three pairs of wings slightly flare out even more.

“But you are not her. You are the king of nightmares,” the Wyrm says, unwavering, “she is your sister and you could be working with her.”

Grimm stares at the Wyrm before throwing his head back with a laugh. The needle falters slightly.

“Oh~ what jokes you have Pale Wyrm! My sister and I? Working together, a-hA!” Grimm chuckles and looks back at the now disgruntled king, “My flame has no warmth for her. On the contrary-“

Grimm leans forward, letting the tip of the sharp needle brush against his cheek as the Wyrm stiffens with the bold approach, “I would rather see her light fade out than help it burn. You see, dear Wyrm, it’s not often something intrigues me enough to invest myself. You, standing your ground against the Radiance is the most entertaining thing I have seen for centuries. I suppose it might just be spite, but my desire to aid you and your kingdom are real.~”

How much he would help Grimm had not yet determined. He didn’t want his influence to be so obvious that his sister would notice his meddling. Even though she was dying of her lack of followers, she could still make his life more difficult than it needs to be.

The Wyrm stares at Grimm for a long moment, searching his painted masked face with a level of scrutiny that would make any lesser bug curl in on themselves. He lowers the needle slowly. Grimm’s mask is lightly scorched from sitting against the construct of pure light, but he heals himself with a simple hiss of soul.

“I will allow this,” The Wyrm says carefully and Grimm smiles.

“Wonderful~” Grimm says right before he disappears in a burst of flame and the chains drop limp. The Wyrm startles back and then he feels a flash of heat behind him. He whirls around and points the needle right under Grimm’s smiling mask, “I look forward to our future nightmares together~”

* * *

The Pale King was staring at Grimm over his desk with papers haphazardly stacked. The Wyrm said they were organized, but Grimm had his doubts.

This was their fourth time meeting in the Wyrm’s nightmares and with the Wyrm’s insistence to remain awake as long as he could so he could work on a solution to the infection made their meetings far and few between. Grimm kept his word and provided insight on the Radiance. How her infection worked and how it spread. How she tricks bugs into serving her or else they die. Why she was so quick to ruthless retribution even thought the Wyrm didn’t intentionally steal her followers.

Grimm had also gotten more acquainted with the Wyrm now being so close to his mind. The Wyrm, to his credit, apologized for his initial behavior. He was short on patience as every moment he delays more of his subjects are enthralled to the Old Light. Grimm accepted the excuse, for he is also protective of his troupe. If a foreign entity threatened his beloved crew he would also have an easily agitated temper.

“What are you?” The Wyrm asks, sitting back with a sense of exhaustion. It permeated so deeply in the Wyrm’s body that his very mind could not shake it.

“Grimm, the Nightmare King,” Grimm answers, curiously browsing the King’s study.

“No, there was more,” he mutters, shuffling through some of the papers on his desk. His dark eyes squint at a stack. He carefully removes what looks to be a flyer with dark and crimson ink, “I didn’t leave this here… but this is it.”

Grimm laughs under his breath. Are you sure you’re organized? The Wyrm reads off the flyer- one of the Troupe’s flyers now that Grimm has gotten a good look at it. Odd. He doesn’t remember bringing his circus to Hollownest before.

“The circus is coming to you, prepare for nights of glee and laughter under the glow of the Nightmare Heart,” the Wyrm says and Grimm hums. One of the earlier flyers too. They had decided against mentioning the Heart as it seemed to work against them gathering larger audiences. In hindsight, Grimm should’ve thought of that before spending a couple thousand Geo to get those flyers painted.

“This is one of yours- Grimm the Troupe Master, it is scribed at the bottom. You hold a different appearance here as well,” Grimm walks closer to the desk as the Wyrm has a habit of muttering, “I thought you and The Radiance were confined to the realms of dream and nightmare.”

“That is a hasty assumption, Wyrm,” Grimm says, idly picking up a book to idly flip through. It was full of gibberish he couldn’t make sense of. The Wyrm’s wings rustle as they shift against each other in what Grimm senses is unease.

“Then how? How do you have the ability to walk amongst mortals yet retain this— form? Does the Radiance have this ability as well?” 

“Oh no, the Radiance does not care for containing her light in a vessel, and a vessel is what I am,” Grimm sees the Wyrm sit up straighter at the mention of the term vessel, “I do not wish to get into the complicated intricacies of my relation to the Nightmare Heart, but it is what I contain in my body. If I did not, it’s volatile influence would be as sickening as the Radiance’s infection.”

The Wyrm stares at Grimm and is silent for a long breadth of time. His perception of the tall, crimson bug had changed with this new information. Grimm lets the moment linger as he turns new pages in the book he doesn’t understand. He finally tires of feigning his interest in it and places it somewhere back on the shelf. He looks back at the Wyrm and sees him with threaded fingers beneath his chin, deep in thought.

What Grimm didn’t account for as he mentioned his existence as a vessel was how the Wyrm’s foresight had suddenly revealed a new pathway into the future, one that made his light brighten from a dim glow to something regal once more. Grimm curiously trills at the display.

“Two Geo for your thoughts?” The Wyrm jumps at Grimm’s rough voice and looks up to those baleful scarlet eyes that would make a weak mind whimper. The Wyrm could never force himself to relax around this creature as his subtle aura screamed fear and danger. There was an unspoken threat with behind the amiable demeanor and the Pale King constantly felt it like a pressure against his carapace.

“The Radiance lacks a vessel?” The Wyrm asks slowly and Grimm squints at the sudden calm.

“Yes.” 

That apparently was all the king needed to hear and suddenly Grimm felt the world twist underneath him, a clear sign that the Wyrm was waking up. Grimm was startled as it came out of nowhere like the pale chains from before.

“Wyrm-“ Grimm started to say before he was pushed out of the king’s mind and back into his body. The force of being expelled loosened the grip he had on his perch and he nearly falls flat on his face. He shakes his head and stands to his full height. That was sudden and unexpected. Grimm climbed back up to his preferred sleeping position and closed his eyes, reentering the realm of nightmares. He peers down at Hollownest and finds the king shaking off a piece of parchment stuck to one of his horns before hurriedly scrabbling to write something down.

What is he in a rush about?

It is hard to follow and see acute details from above the tangible world, but slowly things began to click. The king had a building swell of hope in his abdomen and there was new found determination behind his eyes before Grimm was kicked out of his mind. Grimm thought back to the king’s question before he was so rudely expelled from their conversation. Why would the king be concerned about the Radiance having a vessel…

Ah.

He wants to contain the Radiance, and her infection, with a vessel.

Oh poor Wyrm.

“That won’t work,” Grimm muses to himself. Vessels and gods had to both mutually want to participate in the dance or else one of them would be destroyed. The Radiance loved to gloat in Grimm’s face about how Vessels were a waste of time, especially because he infused his consciousness into one. She had even laughed when she gave himself a name instead of continuing to go by the Nightmare Heart.

While Grimm had no stakes in this entire thing, he looked forward to listening to the indignation of the Radiance. Ooh how frustrated she will be, confined to a small mortal as she continuously weakens. The Wyrm’s actions would only further delay the inevitable and the vessel would deteriorate, unable to hold the infection from wreaking havoc on Hollownest and Grimm would be summoned to start the ritual.

Grimm was excited for it all.

But… the Wyrm had done significant research on the Void below Hollownest. Was he going to discard all the work he had done in leu of this new vessel project?


	2. Scarlet Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hollow is a frequent visitor of the nightmare realm and sometimes a peculiar red eyed stranger likes to invite himself in.

It is dark.

That was fine.

They were used to the dark.

It is quiet.

That was also fine.

They did not need to make noise.

.

.

.

It is boring.

That was harder to ignore.

But they _shouldn’t-_ cannot feel.

They step forward in this dark space blindly, carefully. Their steps take them ten paces forward before they bump into a solid wall. They reach out with one arm and press their palm against the surface that they cant see. It is solid. It has no give.

They walk to the left and encounter a corner after another ten paces. It is sharp and also unyielding.

They follow the new wall clockwise for twenty paces before finding the other corner and then continuing to the next. They were in a box, twenty paces long on each side with nothing inside it.

There was no flaw in the walls that they could feel as they continued to walk around the perimeter of it. They soon found a monotonous rhythm walking blindly in the dark. It kept their mind blank, like it should be.

Twenty paces.

Turn.

Twenty paces.

Turn.

Fifteen paces.

Turn-

What?

They stare blankly at the solid surface. It should not be there for another five paces.

Something shrinks in their gut. They ignore it so they cannot think about how much they dislike that particular feeling.

They turn, following the wall.

Fifteen paces again.

That feeling grows. They ignore it further.

Ten paces now. This one makes their shoulders tense as their mask bumps into it before their hand does. That feeling grows even more and it’s starting to be impossible to continue ignoring.

Breaking from their rhythm, they turn around and start walking counter-clockwise.

Eight paces-

The sensation stabs through their abdomen and fear tightens their body. They cannot ignore it any longer. The box was shrinking- or they were growing too much for it to contain. 

Six paces-

Their breath quickens. They cannot think of suppressing their terror for it is consuming their min-

Three paces-

They become aware of a ceiling as their horns suddenly rasp against it. It startles them and they sharply look up- causing their horns to knock against the wall behind them that is closer than it should be.

It’s getting too small. They cannot stand at their full height any longer. _It’s shrinking too fast._

They push their hand against the closest wall and try to keep it at bay, but the force behind it is unrelenting. They continue to try anyway, even as their chitin cracks and they are forced to fall backwards. Their body is wracked with tremors. The size of the box amplifies the sound of their rabid breathing. It’s loud in their ears. Nono _no sounds no sounds they cannot make sounds_

__

They want to scream.

They can’t.

They suffer in silence as the box continues to shrink, forcing their legs to bunch upward and their head to be pushed down uncomfortably over their chest. They fruitlessly push against the top to make it stop-

It has to stop

_Please stop_

A sound of a lock opening breaks through their ruffled breathes.

The top gives away softly like the lid to a chest and a crimson red fills in the crack. The Hollow Knight does not squint even though their eyes burn.

The lid pulls away from their palm as their eyes adjust to the strange thing in front of them. There’s so much red. They’ve never seen so much red. Their breath stills as two scarlet eyes peer down at them with an intensity that makes their heart quicken for another reason.

Color filled eyes meant infection.

But- this was scarlet- not sickly orange.

Was it the same?

It looked familiar for some reason…

“That looks dreadfully uncomfortable,” a voice purrs, unbidden from these eyes. They can see this creature’s form now. Two long horns sharpened to points. Ruby red. Their mask had two bold black lines that broke only for the eyes. They saw the tips of a rich carnelian cloak.

Who are they?

The Hollow Knight cannot force down his want to know. Perhaps it was the relief of being freed from their ever shrinking prison that broke their will to not wonder.

“Come, lets get you out of there,” he says, voice deep and grating, but they cannot bring themselves to be disturbed by it. A hand is offered down and they feel foolish for just staring but they’re not allowed. There is a pause before the hand beckons them with a ‘come hither’ motion’. They are allowed to grasp it now. It was an order.

The stranger’s fingers are long and spindly, wrapping around their hand with smooth digits. The surface of his chitin is unmarred with scrapes of use. As Hollow sits there, staring, there’s an impatient squeeze on their palm before they quickly wrap their worn and cracked fingers around the stranger’s thin wrist.

They are pulled up with surprising strength and with little effort they step out of the box.

“Isn’t that better?” The stranger says with a squint in his eyes that the Hollow Knight realizes is a smile. 

Their thoughts of Who and Why are abruptly cut short as the space around them twists and suddenly they are back in their nest.

They blink.

.

.

.

Was that a nightmare?

They don’t remember much of it but the sudden red and grinning eyes.

Grinning eyes that looked like-

Hollow reaches to the top of their head and gently feels for the tiny winged creature. It croons to their touch and bumps its head into their unsteady hand. Weaver sibling- Hornet now- said their Ghost sibling- who they never met yet thought they had- raised the creature from a larva to this adolescent stage. She said it was the Grimmchild. She didn’t sound pleased, but she rarely is about anything anymore.

Carefully, they pluck it from between their serrated horns and hold it in front of their mask. The Grimmchild grumbles about being displaced from their warm bubble of air and peeks its eyes open to glare at who disturbed its slumber.

Hollow stares. It stares back with the same scarlet eyes they saw in their dream. Before Hollow can notice the other odd similarities to the vague memory of the stranger in their nightmare it wriggles out of their gentle grasp and clambers back to their spot, this time with their abdomen and wings curled around the front of Hollow’s mask like a blindfold.

“Mra,” it declares and settles back to sleep.

* * *

Burns it burns it burns its inside them and _it burns it_ ** _burns._** ****

They twist on the ground without chains to hold them and no seals to restrict their movement. The infection had broken though their right side and eaten away their arm. They had felt every moment of it. Every cell burns like they’ve been exposed to acid. It’s inside them- rooting up their throat and warping it to the will of something else.

They feel it at the base of their head, poking, pushing, _burning_ -

Stop _stop stop_

They cannot withstand the pain.

They fall forward onto their mask and pull at the growing cysts in their sides. They have no nail to stab it so they rely on their sharp claws instead. It hurts but it is not as bad as the burning tendrils eating throughout their entire body.

Get out

_Get out of-!_

They pull once more and feels the wall of the cyst tear before they suddenly lose their grip.

The burning is gone.

The prodding at their mind is absent.

Their throat is untouched.

They press their hand against their side and they are met with the smooth black chitin of their carapace. The sensation is startling because it was so sudden. They feel up and down their shell- no holes or dips in their surface. No leaking void. Their right arm is still absent, but they’ve gotten so used to lacking it that it doesn’t come off as unusual. 

They carefully shift their weight onto their remaining hand and push back to sit up, their cloak awkwardly drapes over their left eye. Their surroundings had shifted from that hazy orange to the alien red that they oddly think they remember.

A bug stands in front of them, also oddly familiar.

Wait- this happened before, with the nightmare they had last night.

The stranger had stopped this nightmare as well. Now they had a better look at them without the obstruction of the box blocking half of his body. The carnelian cloak that they just had a glimpse of twisted around his body like a second skin. It briefly looked like it moved on its own. He was tall, tall as Hollow and thin.

He was smiling.

Why?

“Apologies, my sister makes the worst messes~” he says as if that explains the situation, but it only confuses Hollow further.

Sister?

Hollow is left with that final thought before this nightmare also ends abruptly and siphons away their memory of it, leaving them with the barest of scraps.

Scarlet eyes. Helps. Who helps? Sister… sister of who… the helper?

Hollow stares at the ceiling, trying to make sense of their dreams. They weren’t going to be able to fall asleep again. They quietly swore that there was something supernatural tampering with their mind. It made them feel unnerved and they allowed themselves to feel unnerved, as the presence of another in their mind strayed too close to the scars of the infection that they failed to contain.

But… they weren’t infected.

…Were they?

They didn’t feel different.

They slowly glance over at Hornet’s sleeping form in the silk woven cocoon on the wall. She sleeps light, but Hollow has learned to step silently. They could get away with their curiosity if she doesn’t notice.

Slowly sitting up to avoid disturbing the slumbering Grimmchild, they make their way to the tiny washroom. They have to crouch to fit. There was a basin of water that they could use. The lumaflies illuminated the room with a gentle light that allowed them to see their reflection.

They peer at themselves. One eye stares back, the other eye was wrapped up with care.

It was black, not scarlet.

Hollow is confronted with the same enigma.

Who is upending their nightmares? Why does he look like the Grimmchild? 

What do they want?

* * *

They were a disappointment. 

They failed the moment they followed their father out of the abyss. They did not know what was going to be asked of them. They didn’t understand what that beautiful light was saying, all they knew was that they wanted to be near it.

As they grew their understanding of their role became clearer and more concrete until they realized with horror that they would not be able to hold up to their title as Pure Vessel. They learned what it truly meant. They were supposed to be empty. _Hollow._

…they were everything but.

They hoped, they wondered, they wished.

They just happened to be a very good actor and desperate to please their father. Soon they learned that the rigid orders and strict rules were not normal. It was because everyone around them assumed they were pure. They followed their fathers orders because that was the right thing to do and it quickly turned into a thing that they had to do.

They were terrified of the shock and disappointment that their father would see if they revealed any hint of will or thought. They vowed to become hollow and to take the very first words spoken to them to heart. They desperately wanted to feel nothing.

The pressure built quickly to be perfect.

_No mind to think._

They bore themselves as a statue. They banished all impure thoughts from their mind and punished themselves harshly for not being hollow. They would not respond to questions. They would not make any indication that they cared about what was being spoken about around them.

_No will to break._

The training routines were ruthless, tiring and got exponentially harder with each success. They refused to show their fatigue, even when void drifted out of their segmented limbs and they could barely stand. They would only falter when they had truly met their limit and their body gave out underneath them.

_No voice to cry suffering._

They had no voice at all, but they took this even further. They would not indicate the pain that throbbed in their limbs after training nor the ache in their neck for standing up for so long. They did not flinch or wince as their mask was removed for newer, larger ones as their body grew. They stifled their cries as their mother left the castle and their father became more distant than ever.

They were the Hollow Knight. Their rules became a mantra in their head:

_Do not think…_

_Do not speak…_

_Do not hope…_

_Do not …_

_…_

_Do not fail…_

The last one they tried so hard to follow without hesitance… because they couldn’t follow the previous rules.

Their mind wandered when they were bored. The threads of gossip between the retainers, nobles, and dreamers were the most entertaining stories they eavesdropped on.

Physically, they could not speak, but only for their little weaver sibling, they would speak in other ways. They would point. They would grimace. They would nod or shake their head. It made her happy. She didn’t know their fate and they wanted her memory of them to only be of warmth and love. However, the illusion didn’t last as she was a very perceptive grub. When they became akin to an inanimate object when another bug was near she learned very quickly that Hollow was supposed to be an “it” and not a “them.”

She said she would keep it a secret. A deep secret so secret that it was even deeper than deep nest.

They hoped that they would be able to keep the infection at bay. For her.

They knew they were going to fail.

Behind Hollow their words and rules were slowly etched onto a dark surface and got brighter and more bold with each errant thought. The air around them darkened with void yet the words cut through it like light.

The pressure of failure was immense and it built as the day of ascension came closer. The nerves were stifling but they would not show it. Their grip tightened on their nail hard enough for their chitin to creak.

They didn’t want to be there.

They didn’t want to exist.

And as if on cue, they are broken out of their thoughts with that enthralling voice right behind them. They don’t notice how they jump as they turn around sharply.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a Vessel of dreams and not nightmares?” The scarlet stranger says with a lilt of humor in his voice. His hand reaches out and idly grabs onto one of the hoops on their pauldrons.

Hollow glances up and sees that he had split their oppressive thoughts like a curtain to a stage. The scratched on words looked more like stitches and the black surface had turned into a thick and rich fabric. Red haze drifted out of the space between their nightmare curtains and they can’t help but try to peer at what was behind them. 

“Oh- I must apologize, but only crew members are allowed backstage,” the stranger draws his hand away from their armor and places a finger on the tip of their mask and pushes their gaze away, “at least, not yet, unless you were to join my troupe~.”

Questions bubbled up in their gut. Who are you? Why do you keep doing this? How do you keep doing this? Why do you look like the Grimmchild? Why-

Why do you care about my nightmares?

The Hollow Knight grips their nail, tension building uncomfortably in their arms as they turn with meaning which evidently surprises the stranger.

They face him.

They start to lift their hand, but freeze. The stranger tilts his head, glancing down and back up at them. He’s waiting. They have his attention. They have to do this, even if it screams against everything they have learned.

With an effort and a shaking hand they force past their suffocating nerves and point at the stranger’s chest. They accidentally brush the fabric of his cloak. It’s soft.

The stranger looks down and back up again, “Yes?”

Hollow blinks. The tension breaks and a worm of frustration burrows through their mind.

They point again with more meaning… and then turn their hand to the side in a gesture of confusion and then point again.

This seems to work as the stranger speaks, “Who am I?”

Hollow nods sharply. Please. What Is your name?

Scarlet eyes squint in a grin, “How uncouth of me! All this time I have been inviting myself into your nightmares and I haven’t even introduced myself”

The bug takes a step back. Hollow nearly jerks forward to grab him before he dips into an elegant bow, one arm extended behind and one leg crossing the other. They felt silly for thinking he was about to leave for the third time.

“I am Grimm, Troupe Master and Nightmare King. I apologize for not informing you sooner,” he- Grimm stands back up straight like a pleased mosscreep, “I do wish that you can forgive my faults.”

Hollow absorbs the strangers name like a wonderful warm flame. Finally. _A name._ They again nod to Grimm. Grimm sighs like a comedically massive weight had been lifted off of his shoulders and he claps his hands.

“Wonderful~! Now- I’m afraid our time together is going to be cut short again. You see, when a nightmare is no longer unpleasant, it drifts into the realm of dreams that the Radiance once held dominion over. Now in these times with the Radiance having passed, there are no more dreams, so there is nothing in its place. The stage of which we stand on in nightmares isn’t as stable as it used to be, so we sadly have to say goodbye.”

Hollow blinks- is that why he always woke up so suddenly each time? It was as simple as that?

They don’t know why but they try to reach for Grimm’s narrow wrist just as the space around them twists like it always does and those grinning scarlet eyes pull back into the curtains.

Hollow sits up straight with a rush, accidentally catapulting the Grimmchild across the room who screeches in surprise, waking Hornet like a charm. She reflexively grabs her nail and flips out of her cocoon, brandishing its sharp point to the air of the hut as she aggressively scans for intruders.

Her eyes fall upon Hollow sitting upright and the Grimmchild slowly sliding down the wall. What just-

… ah

She walks over to her sibling and places her needle down against their bed and— awkwardly puts her hand on their side. She isn’t adjusted to this, caring for someone, but she needs to getused to it regardless because it’s Hollow and Hollow needs her.

“Nightmare again?” She asks, craning her head upward to look at them. Hollow slowly turns their massive mask toward her.

… and nods just a fraction of an angle. It is so subtle that one could mistake it for a simple motion of taking a breath, but Hornet knows better. 

…and it makes her happy. Hollow isn’t nearly as expressive as they were when she was a wild little grub, but the fact that they had finally started to _answer_ her without being ordered makes her swell with joy. 

“Was it… bad?” She sucks at this, but Hollow shakes their head. 

The Grimmchild leaps off of the ground and back onto the bed. With an angry growl it puffs a small scarlet fireball right at Hollow’s horns which they duck away from instinctively. It was barely an ember but Hornet was not going to allow it,

“If you do that once more I am making you sleep outside,” she says coldly, narrowing her eyes. The Grimmchild bristles like she had just challenged it and Hornet reaches subconsciously for her nail. Before it has a chance to consider lighting her shawl ablaze Hollow carefully pats its head.

The Grimmchild’s ruffled wings ease down and it’s growls turn to croons. It pushes its tiny head up into Hollow’s stroking fingers, accepting it as an apology. Hornet huffs and crosses her arms.

There’s a moment of silence before she speaks up again,

“…Do you want to talk about it?” She looks up at Hollow who pauses in their petting. They turn to Hornet and she can swear she can feel their unamused gaze. She giggles and Hollow softens at the sound. Her sibling is still in there, even if they are hidden under thick layers of hurt and trauma.

Hollow turns their gaze back to the Grimmchild after it demands more pets by bumping its head into their knuckles.

Grimmchild.

Grimm.

Grimm is the name of the stranger they had been wondering about for days. They have his name. They know why their nightmares are cut short, but they still don’t know … why? Why has Grimm been easing their suffering unbidden?

Even though Hollow doesn’t have all the answers, they have some, and that is okay.

They oddly wonder what the next nightmare will be and how Grimm will twist some part of it to make it look like a trivial work of nonsense.

* * *


End file.
